


Grey Waters

by caitbalfes (ladybeauchamp)



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-04-27 13:14:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14426187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladybeauchamp/pseuds/caitbalfes
Summary: Jamie returns from Paris to find his friend John married to the perfect woman, but their marriage isn’t quite as perfect as it seems.





	1. Prologue: The Greys

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on tumblr a couple of months ago, but I forgot to post it here.

Jamie Fraser was certain of three things: the grass was green, Frasers were stubborn, and it was only a matter of time before he ruined his friendship with John Grey.

It wasn’t by choice, mind. He valued his friendship with John greatly. They’d been close since school, but hadn’t seen each other for years. John had gone to university in his native England. Jamie had been away studying in Paris, and when he returned to London he found his friend—

_“Married?” Jamie nearly dropped the phone._

_“Yes! I met her at university. I thought her so clever and charming. Oh, you must meet her, Jamie. You’ll love her.”_ Of course, John hadn’t meant that literally.

The following day Jamie had visited John in his new flat.

_“Check—mate.” John grinned. “Didn’t have much chance to practice chess in Paris? Too busy with the French ladies perhaps?”_

_“I was_ very _focused on my studies, I’ll have ye know.” He had been, for the most part. Only one lass had managed to distract him, but that had been a brief affair._

_“And here I thought you were climbing the Eiffel Tower,” said John, eyeing his muscles appraisingly._

_The loud_ bang _of a door being slammed shut interrupted their conversation._

_Into the kitchen stormed an angry cloud of brown and gold, the gust of wind from her entrance nearly knocking down the chess pieces._

_“Do you think they’ll fire me if I murder a patient?”_

_“I’d advice you against it, my dear,” said John, standing up to take her hand. “Is it Mr Wylie?”_

_“How did you guess?” she said dryly. “I can’t wait until he’s discharged. He’s tried to_ seduce _me for days, claiming my behaviour towards him was proof I returned his feelings—_ my behaviour? _I’m a fucking doctor, it’s my job to be nice!”_

_She let out a frustrated sound. “And today he saw me comforting a man who’d lost his wife—and he called me a_ whore _!”_

_She turned then and met Jamie’s eyes. “Oh . . . I didn’t realise we had company,” she said apologetically._

_But Jamie was forever charmed by the fierceness of this woman._

_“This is Jamie,” said John, “and this is my wife, Claire.”_

_“Pleased to meet you,” she said with a polite smile._

_“Aye—pleased to meet you, too.” He shook her hand, resisting the urge to bring it to his lips and place a kiss there._

That day, Jamie Fraser became certain of one thing: it was only a matter of time before he ruined his friendship with John Grey.


	2. Chapter 1: Doctor Grey

“What I’m saying,” said John Grey, “is that I don’t want you to feel like a third wheel on Saturday. She’s a beautiful, interesting girl. Trust me, I know her well—the Dunsanys are old family friends. You’ll like her, I guarantee it.”

“I’m sure she’s lovely, but—” Jamie tried to protest.

“Give her a chance. Please.”

“I . . .”

* * *

**Earlier That Week**

Two weeks had done nothing to lessen Jamie’s shock at finding out John Grey was married. And now he found himself in hospital with a probable broken arm. Wonderful.

It would appear the enemy of his limbs was a traitorous mind—a mind too easily distracted.

The worst part about being in hospital wasn’t his arm though; it was the fear of running into any and all Dr Greys. This was, after all, the very hospital John Grey’s wife, one Dr Claire Grey, worked. Her, he didn’t want to see. He saw her too often already; in his mind, he was haunted by her eyes.

He remembered their first encounter vividly. He could almost smell it still.

_“Are you staying for supper? I’m not much of a cook, but I’ll try not to poison you.”_

_Jamie looked from Claire’s golden eyes to John’s hopeful ones._

_He couldn’t stay. He COULDN’T . . . could he?_

_“Thank you, I—”_

_“Of course you are!” John declared._

_Claire smiled, whirled around and headed for the kitchen. Jamie caught a whiff of her hair—_

“Mr Fraser, the doctor will see you now.”

Too absorbed in memory, thus lacking his usual grace, Jamie scrambled to his feet. Also lacking his usual manners, he blurted, “That’s not Dr Grey, is it?”

The nurse gave him a curious look. “It’s not.”

It took some restraint not to actually say _phew_ when he heard that.

_He kept stealing glances over supper. Her cheeks were flushed with wine and laughter. Her left hand repeatedly reached to tuck a stubborn curl behind her ear, her golden wedding ring taunting him each time._

The doctor, who wasn’t Claire Grey— _thank God!_ —was kind, but smiled too much. Her smiles were wide, putting her white teeth on display each time. But at least she wasn’t Claire.

“You’re lucky the arm’s not broken,” she was saying in a distinctive London accent. “Or maybe not,” she amended, “had it been, I would’ve referred you to the _Bone Whisperer_.” She said “Bone Whisperer” as though she was sharing a delicious bit of gossip, and for the first time that day Jamie was interested in something other than memories of a brown-haired lass.

“The Bone Whisperer?” he enquired.

“Dr Claire Grey—she’s our best orthopaedic surgeon. She’s a marvel, truly.” She had a glint of admiration in her eyes. “I swear she can _feel_ bones like no other. Her instincts are always spot-on.”

Of course. _Of course_ it was her. Claire. Aye, she was a marvel to be sure. But why did she have to show up everywhere—if not in his mind, then on someone’s lips. He wanted to avoid thinking of her, not be presented with a list of reasons to admire her.

Claire—Dr Grey— _The Bone Whisperer_ would be the death of him. He was sure of it. 

* * *

“What I’m saying,” said John Grey, “is that I don’t want you to feel like a third wheel on Saturday. She’s a beautiful, interesting girl. Trust me, I know her well—the Dunsanys are old family friends. You’ll like her, I guarantee it.”

“I’m sure she’s lovely, but—” Jamie tried to protest.

“Give her a chance. Please.”

“I . . .” With a sigh of resignation, Jamie said, “If yer wrong, can I get a refund?”

“As long as you haven’t taken the price tag off.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t lead her on if I’m not interested.”

“Good. Then it’s settled.”


	3. Chapter 2: Hazel-Eyed Monster

“I’m not blind.”

Startled, Jamie nearly dropped the book he was holding. Realising he was holding a forbidden item, he tried to shield it behind his back, hoping she hadn’t noticed he was reading a diary that didn’t belong to him.

The _she_ in question was Isobel Dunsany, the girl John Grey had set him up with. John had been right about her; she was an interesting, charming woman, and Jamie did like her. But . . .

Isobel smiled at him sympathetically. “How long have you been in love with her?” she asked.

“Who, Claire?”

She gave him a look so as to say “Who else?”

“I’m not—I’m not _in love_ with her. I barely know her.” It was a half-truth. If he wasn’t yet in love with her, he was well on his way there. He was infatuated, and infatuation could fizzle out—or it could fester. It could infect his mind to the point of no return, until she became his everything and the only art worth hanging on his wall was her portrait and the only music worth listening to was the melody of her laugh.

Jamie wasn’t in love, but an ever-deepening infatuation had sunk its dirty claws into him, that fact he couldn’t deny.

“I know just how you feel,” said Isobel.

He hadn’t noticed it during dinner because his ears couldn’t seem to focus on her words, like his eyes couldn’t seem to look at her. His attention had almost solely been on Claire. But thinking back, he realised it hadn’t mattered because Isobel’s attention had been elsewhere, too.

“You’re interested in John?”

A wistful smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Ever since I was young. He’s always been handsome and charming, and the only man I’ve ever known that paid more attention to me than to my sister. But he’s never been interested in me _like that_. For a time I thought he might be—well, never mind, he’s happily married now.

“And you better get back to the table before they wonder whether you might’ve escaped out the window. I should hate for them to think you dislike me _that_ badly.”

“I don’t dislike you,” Jamie said, almost too quickly.

“No, but I don’t see a second date in out future,” said Isobel before leaving the room.

Jamie was still holding Claire’s diary. He hadn’t read it— _yet_ —nor did he intend to. He’d picked it up from the floor after accidentally knocking it down from her bedside table.

Of course, the fact that he was in Claire and John’s bedroom at all, when he’d said he needed to go to the toilet, wasn’t great. Add to that that he was even touching something so private as a diary . . .

It didn’t look good.

Luckily, Isobel hadn’t said anything about that.

His fingers were itching to open the book—so much so that they acted on autopilot and opened the book to a random page.

_—And still, those hazel eyes find a way to turn even the sweetest dreams to skin-crawling horror—_

Jamie closed the book abruptly. He was NOT going to read Claire’s private thoughts. He was better than that.

He put the book back on the table and went back to the dining table, praying to God he didn’t look as guilty as he felt.


End file.
